


Forever and Always

by sortingthesockbasket



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Heavy Angst, M/M, Marriage, Separation, So much angst, Unhappy Ending, angstpocalypse, except not really, it is pure pain on a stick, no fluffy ending this time, there is nothing happy about this, this is agony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-16
Updated: 2014-09-16
Packaged: 2018-02-17 14:49:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2313392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sortingthesockbasket/pseuds/sortingthesockbasket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Holmes has been in an accident. John, rushing to the hospital to see him, tells him something he should have a long time ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forever and Always

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Parachute's "Forever and Always." My heart hurts. For those of you awaiting an update on Pocahontas, sorry. I broke my brain. It's about halfway done, though.

John sat alone in his chair at 221B. It had been a long time since he'd sat here. More so since he'd divorced Mary, but not often since Christmas. Now, however, at Sherlock's behest, he sat in his chair once more. The flat didn't feel right without Sherlock in it. John didn't quite feel at home without Sherlock here, not anymore. The out-of-place feeling niggling in his gut didn't stop him from dozing off, and when he woke up, it was gone three in the morning. Frowning, John roused himself, scanning the surrounding streets. No Sherlock to be seen. Two quick texts to Molly and Lestrade revealed that Sherlock wasn't at St. Bart's and that he'd left the crime scene in Suffolk over an hour ago. A heavy, nagging worry settled into his stomach...and then his phone went off in his hand.

"Hello?"

"John Watson?" John didn't recognize the voice. They sounded too calm. Much too calm. "Speaking."

"There's been an accident, and you're listed as the victim's emergency contact..." The voice faded from John's cognizance, numb shock overtaking him. His mind snaps back to last Christmas, when Sherlock had gotten down on one knee in this very sitting room and proposed, asked John to marry him. His eyes had been bright with hope, the colour of the snow clouds in London's sky that Christmas morning. He'd been almost childlike in his request, trusting and open in a way he almost never was. It had broken John's heart to tell him no, but he just...couldn't. He hadn't been ready. Sherlock had immediately retreated into the falsely cheerful persona that told John how very deeply his detective had been hurt by John's refusal.

Now, John found himself stumbling into a hospital, his heart pounding in his chest. "John Watson to see Sherlock Holmes?"

John knew these hallways. He'd worked here before, but now, they were a maze, an endless, bland maze of sterile white and eggshell off-white, oppressive, closing in on him, the smell of antiseptic filling his nose as his stomach threatened to revolt. A million halls later, they led John into Sherlock's room.

He was pale, so pale, but he was conscious, inscrutable eyes like transparent ice as he watched John take a seat, but the ice in his eyes melted to something warmer, going from the Bering Sea to the warm Caribbean.

"John."

John couldn't stand to hear Sherlock's voice like that. That was the voice of a man who was dying and knew it. And, Christ, the way he said John's name, as if he was seeing an angel come to bear him to heaven and not the broken army doctor who'd shattered his fragile heart too many times to count.

"Sherlock." Before he could devolve into tears, John launched into a description of the life they were going to build together, a desperate attempt to ward off the icy numbness spreading inside him, killing him slowly. He could barely breathe. Sherlock was dying. Really, truly dying, this time.

John was holding Sherlock's hand too tightly, when an idea hit him. He called in the nurses, brought up the chaplain, who said a couple verses. He borrowed some rings from the couple next door. Everyone was laughing as John's tears fell to the floor, his last moments with Sherlock blurred almost beyond recognition.

Blinking away the tears, he looked into Sherlock's eyes, and said, "I want you forever. Forever and always. Through the good and the bad and the ugly. We'll grow old together, but always remember, whether happy or sad or whatever: We'll still love each other, forever and always. Forever and always." His voice cracked as he squeezed Sherlock's hands. "Forever and always."

John finished the vows, but the beeps were getting too slow.

Sherlock's voice was almost too low. He said, "I will love you forever, forever and always. Please just remember, even if I'm not there: I'll always love you. Forever and always." 

The last note that Sherlock Holmes ever played was the high, reedy note of the heart monitor. As Sherlock's heart stopped, John's shattered. He refused to let go of Sherlock's hand, held his body close with his other arm, as if by finally giving him the closeness they'd never had, he could keep the warmth in him for a little longer, keep him alive just a little bit longer. 

It didn't work. It never did.


End file.
